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Short Story - Blood on the Sand


            
             We've got a serial killer on our hands, Lindsey".
             Career Police Detective Joe Turner was standing on the beach with his hands in his pockets and a scowl on his face. By his side was Samuel Lindsey, a 20 year-old detective-in-training from Springfield, Massachusetts. Sand crept into Turner's size 10 black loafers as he knelt over the body to examine the strangulation markings on the victim's neck. This body was the fourth in as many weeks that had washed up on the shores of Hampton Beach, New Hampshire. Although it was a bright, sunny day, apart from the flock of seagulls that had formed around the body, Turner and Lindsey were the only two living things on the beach. .
             As Turner examined a stab wound located between the victim's 3rd and 4th rib, he noticed that Lindsey was avoiding making eye contact with the body, and the paleness in his face rivaled that of the victim. "What's the matter with you? Do your job!" Turner barked at his partner, "Sorry Detective, I can't stand the smell." Turner shook his head in disgust. "Then take a walk and pull yourself together, you look like shit." Lindsey sighed in forbearance, turned and set off along the beach. As Turner watched the silhouette of his partner grow smaller underneath the glimmering sun, he wondered if he had been too tough on the young detective. It was Lindsey's first full year on the force, and no amount of training can prepare someone for four homicides in four weeks. Turner let out a dramatic sigh as he concluded his examination.
             No clues.
             The trouble with a body that has been submerged in water is that all foreign hairs, fibers, and bodily fluids are likely to have been washed away. The coroner arrived to transport the body to the morgue. Turner sat down in the warm sand and held his head in his hands. The hardened features of Turner's face were a reflection of his entire body structure, and everything – from his broad shoulders to his calloused hands – screamed of a man who had been to hell and back.


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